more-so in being,
taking its place within a theorem
of tact and diplomacy.
A region in space
that local weather might clear away
to see, but not believe-
though purpose is reason enough.
It can be filled with sun or cats –
Or emptied of lust and water.
In time, supposing-lovers meet.
There is something curved about the form,
with gentle perceptions
arc and whorled but not touching.
Gaps are infused with
first blush – in dawning fashion.
A silhouette slowly fills to capacity,
their conclusions unite
with no sound-
only an apparition
of what could be true
and the assumption of profession.
intriguing poem musing on the nature of suppositions 😀
Thanks Melinda. 🙂
you’re welcome 🙂